The Dinner Party
by Zippiezippie
Summary: Post Mockingjay. A strange story over a dinner party far away from District 12.


Cigar smoke wreathed its way up to the ceiling. While not as lavish as some dinner parties from the old days, the cigars and wine were good, the food home cooked and excellent, and the company even better. My cousin Ruthie and her husband Reck, were hosting a dinner party and had invited a few friends over. It was a relaxed and informal evening, and easy conversation flowed.

"So Ruthie, how did the grand tour of the districts go?" I said. I hadn't seen her in a few weeks. Reck is an roving investor of sorts, always looking for new industries or the next big thing in technology. With the recovery of Panem well underway after the rebellion and overthrow of the old government, he's constantly on the lookout for new opportunities.

Ruthie smiled. "We saw so much. It was a whistlestop tour, really, but we saw so much, I nearly don't know where to start".

"Which was your favourite stop off Reck?" asked George, a former business partner and close friend of Reck's. George was a great fan of the superior wines Reck managed to procure even in difficult times, and had relaxed to the point of stretching out almost prone on Ruthie's giant sofa.

Ruthie and Reck exchanged a glance. "12, I think… yes 12" said Reck.

General disbelief greeted this.

"Reck, that district was pummelled into the ground during the rebellion. You mean to tell me you saw some potential there?" said George.

"You know they have trains going back out there now? Regular, like, once or twice a day? Those trains are full of people, going back home for good. Those people gotta eat, they gotta make a living somehow" said Reck. "They need factories, houses, places to go after work. The government are pouring money into 12 - who am I to stop progress?"

"And you want in on some of that action", smiled George.

"Yes I do", said Reck, unapologetically.

Ruthie's my cousin on her father's side, and we have a large extended family, but her mother's family are a bit of a mystery. She was brought into District 2 when she was a baby, and, though her mother refused to speak of it, Ruthie thinks she came from 12. Escaped, and was always afraid to speak of it, in case it had repercussions for whoever she had left behind. I smiled over at her. Reck's brash and loud, but is a soft touch for his wife.

"So what did you like so much about 12, apart from the visions of shiny new buildings?" I said.

Reck looks at Ruthie.

"You tell it" she said.

So Reck begins. "We got a great little story about 12. It took all damn day to get there, on a rickety old train. Ruthie sits up - like a kid - just as soon as those mountains came into view. Breathtaking, real eye opener. Forests, miles of them, and mountains, echoing blue away into the distance. Now Ruthie hasn't been here since she was a child, but she's pointing and laughing, and tears standing out in her eyes.

"So we step off the train, and the air's so damn clean it'd burn your lungs. It's - when was it Ruthie? October. Yes, gets real chilly in that part of the country that time of year."

"I reckoned I had some family left out here from years ago" Ruth said, sitting forward. "The family history was always a bit hazy, so I wasn't sure, but … I wanted to find out. So when Reck said he was coming out, well…"

Reck continued then. "So anyway, we pull into the station and head for town with our bags. As you know, Capitol transport has changed in the last few years, it's not the last word in luxury anymore, and the food's left a bit to be desired, so we're hungry as hell. The main part of town's quiet, not many shops open or places to eat. We find this one small place and spend a fair bit of time as we always do standing outside checking out the menu to figure out if it's worth our while going in. The restaurant's not that busy, only a young couple lounging in the corner over some tea.

"So we head in and find a table. I find my eyes drawn over to the couple. They're real sweet. She's quiet and pretty, long dark hair not much else of note, but he's the sun god in this scenario. Open, handsome, smiling face. So we get a real nice supper of some stew, enjoy some wine, take our time, you know. The place is warm and cosy, and there's not exactly a whole lot going on outside.

"The guy who owns the place is real friendly, obviously a local from way back. He knows the couple well, they got a funny back and forth banter going on, while they're paying and getting ready to go.

"'Hey Pete' he's saying now, 'those lemon cookies are flying out the door. Can't keep em on the shelves!'

"The young man is smiling, arm slung around his girl.

'Dale' he says, 'now we both know you ate most of them! '.

'Did my best my man! Can you get some extra in this week?'

'Sure Dale. I'll send them over with the rest of the order Friday.'

"Now this guy is beginning to look vaguely familiar. I can't think where I know him from. He nods to us, and with an 'Evenin' Dale', they're gone. And just as they leave, her eye catches mine over the crook of his arm. Steely.

"Now it's getting dark, and, nice as this little place is, we reckon we should get moving and get a bed for the night, so we pay up and move on. The guy, Dale, he's just as friendly and chatty as before, and while he doesn't know Ruthie's mother, or recognise her or any of the names we're giving him, we're getting a few pointers of where to go looking."

"He SAID he didn't know, but we can't be sure he's not hiding it until he knows a bit more about us. They are notoriously close-mouthed about their own in 12", said Ruthie. "So I'm starting to get the feeling that looking up family's going to take longer than we thought. He says many records were destroyed during the rebellion and it can be hard for even the people living there to get death and birth certificates."

"So just before we go" Reck continues, "I ask the owner: 'That guy's a baker right? Runs his own business? Great to see a young fella like that setting himself up in business.' And now he looks shifty. 'Yeah' he says, not elaborating. He keeps up the smile, but the banter's gone, and I can feel he's anxious to get us moving.

"I don't want to annoy the guy, but try one more time. 'Hey you know what? That guy looks familiar. He from round here?' 'Mmm hm' he says. And deafening silence. Pete's definitely off limits for discussion.

"So we get outside eventually, the owner wishing us all the best, and, outside, we see the young couple again, ambling along. Crossing over to a building opposite. It's a bakery. The young guy slaps the door open and hollers in 'Gotcha!' and laughs. 'Open up for me tomorrow will ya Archie? I gotta take care of something. See you after 10!' And they're gone. And that's when I see the name over the bakery. Mellark.

"So I turned to Ruthie and I say 'Look at the name over that bakery. Look at that damn name'. 'Yeah', she says, 'common enough name around here'. But I'm saying, 'What did our friend Dale call him? Pete?' So it's dawning on her too."

"Peeta Mellark" Ruthie said breathlessly to the entranced audience.

Reck starts up again, "So now my mind is reeling, I'm saying: 'What did his girl look like again? Did you catch her name?' And Ruthie's saying, 'Aw Reck, that was just a story the Capitol cooked up for bigger viewer numbers. And the story worked for the rebellion. That girl could've been anybody. That kid's a catch round here.'"

Even George sits up at this. You could have heard a pin drop.

"But I'm not so sure. She disappeared off the radar in 12, became a recluse of sorts, but the gravediggers in the press are starting to dig it all up again now, and they want her, and him. To find her, you know? What she's doing now. Where he is. And 12 is notoriously close-mouthed when it comes to their own. This is why the restaurant owner's reaction sets off the alarm bells.

"So anyway, we're out the next day, exploring. My girl wants to find this meadow where, rumor has it, is a mass grave for the victims of the bombing of 12 by the Capitol. And we see this figure looming out of the woods. Slight, with a bag slung over their back, we see it's a girl. Not just any girl. Our girl, the girl from the night before. And now we can see her properly, she's as familiar as he is. She's got that crazy bow and a leather jacket. She stops dead when she sees us. Like this hunted look or something. And we've all seen that look thousands of times on national television. I mean, we all know who this is right?"

Loud gasps greeted this. A chorus of questions broke out from his guests, but he was undeterred from his story.

He continued "And she knows her cover is blown. She looks a little confused, all red. Ruthie smiles and says 'Hello again', but I'm too gobsmacked. The girl nods in response and smiles faintly. She pulls it together, she starts to move on. I mean, I'm just too damn blown away to do much more than stand and stare. Her cool eyes catch mine as she passes, just like they did the night before. Feels like a warning.

"We watch her continue up towards that little group of houses near the meadow. She half turns around once to look at us, and we are of course still standing there like morons. And then I just do it. I can't help myself. I pull that gesture, you know the old one from 12 that she used when that little girl died. I think I see a half smile as she turns back around and continues on her way."

Ruthie smiled through the cacophony of questions, disbelief, and laughter. "Reck you are awful. That poor girl".


End file.
